"Books - David Eddings - Belgarath the Sorcerer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

Arends not quite bright. The Marags were emotional, flighty, and
generous to a fault.

The Nyissans were sluggish and devious, and the Angaraks obsessed with
religion. He had nothing but pity for the Morindim and the Karands,
and, given his earthy nature, a peculiar kind of respect for the
mystical Dals. I felt a peculiar wrench and a sense of profound loss
when, on another one of those cool, cloudy days, he reined in his horse
and said,

"This is as far as I'm going, boy. Hop on down."

It was the abruptness more than anything that upset me.

"Which way are you heading?" I asked him.

"What difference does it make, boy? You're going west, and I'm not.

We'll come across each other again, but for right now we're going our
separate ways. You've got more to see, and I've already seen what lies
in that direction. We can talk about it the next time we meet. I hope
you find what you're looking for, but for right now, hop down."

I felt more than a little injured by this rather cavalier dismissal, so
I wasn't very gracious as I gathered up my belongings, got out of his
cart, and struck off toward the west. I didn't look back, so I
couldn't really say which direction he took. By the time I did throw a
quick glance over my shoulder, he was out of sight.

He had given me a general idea of the geography ahead of me, and I knew
that it was late enough in the summer to make the notion of exploring
the mountains a very bad idea. The old man had told me that there was
a vast forest ahead of me, a forest lying on either side of a river
that, unlike other rivers, ran from south to north. From his
description I knew that the land ahead was sparsely settled, so I'd be
obliged to fend for myself rather than rely on pilferage to sustain me.
But I was young and confident of my skill with my sling, so I was
fairly sure that I could get by.

As it turned out, however, I wasn't obliged to forage for food that
winter. Right on the verge of the forest, I found a large encampment
of strange old people who lived in tents rather than huts. They spoke
a language I didn't understand, but they made me welcome with gestures
and weepy smiles.

Theirs was perhaps the most peculiar community I've ever encountered,
and believe me, I've seen a lot of communities. Their skin was
strangely colorless, which I assumed to be a characteristic of their
race, but the truly odd thing was that there didn't seem to be a soul
among them who was a day under seventy.